about dressing herself rather than call upon the sour-faced maid. In the course of finding where Petty had placed her things, she found the locked box that had previously lived under her bed in her parents' house.
There wasn't anything of value in it, unless her private thoughts were counted. As far as Olivia was concerned, she'd sooner lose her clothes than lose her diary.
She opened the lock with the key that she'd hidden in her cloak pocket before leaving home yesterday. Inside was a small, unimpressive book.
She was a married woman now. Keeping a diary would undoubtedly seem childish to a man like Dane.
It was only that making note of the world helped Olivia keep her true feelings to herself. When she didn't keep a written record, things tended to bottle up and she never knew when the worst possible thing would burst out.
So she put it all on paper, in the book Walt had given her, keeping her writing tiny and cramped and using her own playful abbreviations so that she wouldn't use up the paper too soon.
There was a lovely, dainty writing desk in the corner of the room, but Olivia brought the inkwell and pen back to the bed and drew the curtains about her. It was dim within, but at least she'd have a moment to hide the book beneath her pillow if Petty came back into the room.
Olivia closed her eyes and let her feelings about the previous night well up within her.
Dane
… heavens, were there even words?
She blushed. There probably were, but she didn't think she ought to write them down! Nor would vulgar descriptions do to capture the spell she'd been under. His hands, so large and strong, yet so gentle on her…
The scent of him, sandalwood and heat and man… the way his hard body felt to her touch… his mouth…
Goodness, the minute she was done she was going to finish dressing and seek him out! Her breath coming more quickly, she bent to write, the pen nib scratching madly as she filled the page.
Dane scowled over the pages from the file before him. "What do you mean, Liverpool opposes this plan?"
Marcus was pacing before Dane's great desk. "I mean, he opposes it!" He threw out his hands. "I informed him that we were preparing to employ a member of the Liar's Club to engage the Prince Regent in a close friendship that would help us keep better tabs on his moods and whims and to influence him away from behavior such as he has previously embarked on."
It was a good plan. Prince George IV had led the government on many a merry chase over the years, not the least of which was his recent disappearance in the company of two young spy trainees.
Dane slapped both palms down on his desk. The oak trembled. "Did you explain to Liverpool that the Chimera is still at large and that we must keep George under constant supervision? No more unauthorized jaunts!"
Marcus threw himself into the chair by the fire. "Oh, Liverpool wants the Prince Regent controlled all right. Preferably with iron chains. It's the companion we chose that the Prime Minister objects to."
Dane looked down at the name written in the file. "What's wrong with the Phoenix? He's entirely suitable, wholeheartedly loyal, and His Highness has already shown a marked preference for his company."
Marcus shrugged. "Apparently there is something we don't know about Collis Tremayne. Or it could be his wife, Rose. She's lowborn, and you know what a snob Liverpool is."
Dane grunted. "Unless she's deucedly pretty, I don't think we need to worry about George wanting to spend time with her."
Marcus shook his head. "I happen to think she's quite lovely, but you know George's taste runs to an earthier sort."
Dane nodded absently.
Earthier
, in regards to George, meant endowed with a great deal of bosom and a hearty appreciation for bed-play…
A thought began to trace its way across Dane's frustration. He leaned back in his chair and contemplated the ceiling as the idea began to grow.
George's taste runs to an earthier sort
.
"Liverpool was right," Dane said
There wasn't anything of value in it, unless her private thoughts were counted. As far as Olivia was concerned, she'd sooner lose her clothes than lose her diary.
She opened the lock with the key that she'd hidden in her cloak pocket before leaving home yesterday. Inside was a small, unimpressive book.
She was a married woman now. Keeping a diary would undoubtedly seem childish to a man like Dane.
It was only that making note of the world helped Olivia keep her true feelings to herself. When she didn't keep a written record, things tended to bottle up and she never knew when the worst possible thing would burst out.
So she put it all on paper, in the book Walt had given her, keeping her writing tiny and cramped and using her own playful abbreviations so that she wouldn't use up the paper too soon.
There was a lovely, dainty writing desk in the corner of the room, but Olivia brought the inkwell and pen back to the bed and drew the curtains about her. It was dim within, but at least she'd have a moment to hide the book beneath her pillow if Petty came back into the room.
Olivia closed her eyes and let her feelings about the previous night well up within her.
Dane
… heavens, were there even words?
She blushed. There probably were, but she didn't think she ought to write them down! Nor would vulgar descriptions do to capture the spell she'd been under. His hands, so large and strong, yet so gentle on her…
The scent of him, sandalwood and heat and man… the way his hard body felt to her touch… his mouth…
Goodness, the minute she was done she was going to finish dressing and seek him out! Her breath coming more quickly, she bent to write, the pen nib scratching madly as she filled the page.
Dane scowled over the pages from the file before him. "What do you mean, Liverpool opposes this plan?"
Marcus was pacing before Dane's great desk. "I mean, he opposes it!" He threw out his hands. "I informed him that we were preparing to employ a member of the Liar's Club to engage the Prince Regent in a close friendship that would help us keep better tabs on his moods and whims and to influence him away from behavior such as he has previously embarked on."
It was a good plan. Prince George IV had led the government on many a merry chase over the years, not the least of which was his recent disappearance in the company of two young spy trainees.
Dane slapped both palms down on his desk. The oak trembled. "Did you explain to Liverpool that the Chimera is still at large and that we must keep George under constant supervision? No more unauthorized jaunts!"
Marcus threw himself into the chair by the fire. "Oh, Liverpool wants the Prince Regent controlled all right. Preferably with iron chains. It's the companion we chose that the Prime Minister objects to."
Dane looked down at the name written in the file. "What's wrong with the Phoenix? He's entirely suitable, wholeheartedly loyal, and His Highness has already shown a marked preference for his company."
Marcus shrugged. "Apparently there is something we don't know about Collis Tremayne. Or it could be his wife, Rose. She's lowborn, and you know what a snob Liverpool is."
Dane grunted. "Unless she's deucedly pretty, I don't think we need to worry about George wanting to spend time with her."
Marcus shook his head. "I happen to think she's quite lovely, but you know George's taste runs to an earthier sort."
Dane nodded absently.
Earthier
, in regards to George, meant endowed with a great deal of bosom and a hearty appreciation for bed-play…
A thought began to trace its way across Dane's frustration. He leaned back in his chair and contemplated the ceiling as the idea began to grow.
George's taste runs to an earthier sort
.
"Liverpool was right," Dane said
Similar Books
